


Shelter From Reality (take a dip in my daydreams)

by DiamondCrystalInk



Series: Q and Bond go traveling cause I can't [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: AND I MEAN RICH, Cars, Developing Relationship, M/M, Q gets backstory, Rich!Q, Switzerland, THEY EAT AND TALK AND THERES BARELY ANY PLOT, They kissed in the previous one but i guess its still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24304402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondCrystalInk/pseuds/DiamondCrystalInk
Summary: Q and Bond go on a spontaneous trip to Switzerland.-A direct continuation from the previous part of the series. There's no plot, I just want them to be happy traveling around getting to know each other.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Q and Bond go traveling cause I can't [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754566
Comments: 15
Kudos: 55





	1. Saturday/Samedi/Samstag

**Author's Note:**

> Read the first part for full relationship development.  
> Title inspired by lyrics from Arabella by the Arctic Monkeys.

The trip to the Folkestone terminal for the EuroTunnel didn't take as long as Bond thought it would, somehow Q had already prepared all the tickets and paperwork beforehand. Sitting in a Bugatti named Arabella in a train headed for France was not how he expected his weekend to go. Conversations flow surprisingly smoothly between them, Bond can’t help but think of all the other places he could go to with Q.

“I must say, I always saw you as a Germany type of guy,” Bond says between the comfortable silence of entering the carriage and Q rolling down the windows and turning off the engine. The looks this car gets is something that Q seems to enjoy just as much as Bond does, a surprising fact considering how shy Bond once considered him. 

“Really? How so?” Q says with an upturn of his brow, clearly amused by Bond's observation.

“I don't know, maybe it's the thought of you in sheer clothing dancing in Berghain that does it for me.” When a man like James Bond sees an opening he takes it.

“Are you looking for a party animal?”

“No, just looking at you,” Bond says in a heartbeat. To which Q can only roll his eyes as his cheeks develop a tint of color.

“You are smooth, I won't lie,” Q says before he breaks eye contact looking at the car in front of them, Bond laughs next to him.

In any other situation Bond would know how to keep his mouth shut and enjoy the silence, and yet the character of Q (or Alexander James Astor that is) just seems far too distracting for his brain to stop inquiring on, “Do you smoke, Q?” He asks for no particular reason.

“It's a bad habit,” Q says matter of factly.

“Do you really? Bond’s voice revealed his surprise.

“I've only smoked in two situations, first was with my grandfather in his library, it was this Cuban cigar and I nearly coughed my lung out trying to impress him, afterward my grandmother found out and lectured my grandfather at the family table during dinner,” Q remembers the old memory fondly, and with the same smile, he continues. “The second was from a random girl’s mouth at a party in Rome when I turned 18.” 

“That's some 18th you had,” Bond responds, he thinks back to his own 18th celebration which was much tamer.

“I know you also smoke when missions require it, do you do it at home as well?” Q redirects the conversation from his wild youth.

“Only if my Quartermaster tells me too.”

“Cheeky.”

“Come on,” Bond opens the door and looks back at Q, “let’s go look at other cars that aren’t even a fraction as good as Arabella.”

The trip is a bit over 30 minutes and Q spends most of it talking to some father on a family road trip. The man had tried to strike up a conversation with Bond, before Bond had to tell the poor man that he was just a passenger in the vehicle, and not the rich old man letting his boy toy drive. 

Q of course being the actual engineer he is, spent the whole trip explaining every part of Arabella to the father and his now very curious son. Naturally the only thing Bond could do was keep the wife entertained as well with some friendly commentary. 

Soon enough the pair are back in the privacy of the car and setting off on the French roads. Q decides to play some music for what he claims is tradition, “Europe calls for European songs and European songs alone.” Just like that he’s playing songs ranging from love songs he sings along too in perfect French, and Ukrainian Electronic music he moves to so much it makes Bond doubt his safety.

As a well-traveled man, Bond has seen his fair share of jungle gorges and pristine sand dunes, but the European countryside is a different breed entirely. It’s all endless plains and quaint houses. It reminds him of the vastness of Scotland but without the cold and dampness, it’s vast and empty but with Q beside him it’s as warm as summer’s morn.

Soon enough Q’s European playlist is rounded off by a song in a fictional language, “Sorry if that wasn't to your taste music-wise, having to live with so many other international kids makes your music taste a bit of a mess.” Q takes his eyes off the road to smile at Bond, it makes his heart feel funny.

They stop by someplace to get petrol and pick up lunch, thankfully they both eat quickly since Q goes, “We are not eating in Arabella.” Bond rolls his eyes but agrees easily enough, a Bugatti smelling like pâté isn’t really what he wants to sit in for another 5 hours.

“You know we could switch driving if you're feeling tired, I’m used to long drives as well you know,” Bond comments as he looks at his watch.

“I’ll have you know I've been driving this route for years now.”

“Alright have it your way,” Bond moves in his seat a bit, he crosses his arms and closes his eyes, “I’m gonna take a nap.”

“Sweet dreams, James.” Who knew the sound of breathing could be so comforting.

When James wakes up the sky is a all warm colors, the colours of a setting sun. Q has parked Arabella by a lake and is currently unbuckling his seatbelt. “It's nearly sunset and  lac Léman reflects the sun beautifully.”

Q goes to sit on the frunk and Bond joins him, “You're not worried about denting Arabella?”

“Very funny, it's reinforced don't worry.” Q then leans closer to rest his head on Bond’s shoulder. The sunset is warm but Q is warmer.

When the sun takes its last bow and the sky does dark, Bond looks to his shoulder and says, “Am I allowed to drive now?”

Q does open his eyes but smiles as he says, “Jokes on you there’s only 45 minutes left to the drive, but I’ll set up the GPS and we can switch.”

Q spends the rest of the trip drifting in and out of sleep, out of the corner of his eyes he can see Bond drive like a 17-year-old with his first car, it's adorable. Finally Bond pulls up to the driveway of a chalet, Q being partially awake comes to full consciousness to open the garage door and the car descends into an underground parking space.

There are a few cars of mixed British and Swiss number plates, Q now wide awake tells Bond, “Park next to that one,” Pointing at a G-wagon.

The door that Bond can only guess leads upstairs opens to a sweet middle-aged woman, “Welcome home Alexander!”

“Cherry!” Q immediately goes to greet her with a kiss on each cheek and a big hug, Bond goes to get their bags from the frunk.

“James, this is my childhood nanny and current property manager Charlotte Sophia Beaux, Cherry, this is James Bond.” Charlotte goes to shake his hand and Bond being the utter man he is kisses her hand instead, she loves it.

“Always lovely when Alexander brings a new guest.”

“Is dinner ready, Cherry?” Q asks as he ascends the stairs, Charlotte swiping the bags from his hand and gesturing for Bond to follow.

“Of course jeune maître, all the favorites are ready to be served.”

Bond knows with all his heart that he can’t be surprised by where Q lives, he really shouldn’t be. It’s homey, much more homey than the catalog like luxury apartment he slept in last night. It’s all wood and plush couches with a stone fireplace, he can smell cheese and French onion soup at the dining table where Q is currently sat.

It's set for three and Q is sat at the head of the table. Bond pulls out a chair as Charlotte brings out the soup he smelled earlier. She takes her own seat in front of him and beside Q, she has one of those ageless faces, she could be 40 or 60 and he would take both at face value. 

Q takes his first spoon and his face lights up, “I promise you, Bond, you may travel the world but you’ll never find an onion soup like this.”

“Alexander is too kind, in my opinion, the taste is highlighted by bias but he swears every time it’s true.” She informs Bond. 

Taking his first proper spoonful, Bond immediately agrees with Q’s assessment, the soup is splendid. Soon enough the bowl is clean and Charlotte goes back into the kitchen to plate the entrees. 

“If it wasn’t already clear, Charlotte was placed as my primary caretaker by my grandparents when my parents passed, she’s been with me ever since.”

“Does she live here alone?”

“Yes, I asked her once about past relationships and she said she was never interested.”

Charlotte returns with 3 plates of rosti each and a platter of sausages. “Homemade, jeune maître, just how you like them.”

Q at his Swiss chalet is slightly different from last night’s dinner Q, a tad more relaxed, if he is catered to by Sato he is mothered by Charlotte. 

“I see quite a few cars in the basement, do you enjoy driving?” Bond asks Charlotte. 

“Oh I adore driving, you should know I was the one who taught Q how to drive,” It’s clear Bond hit the right topic because she's lit up more than he thought possible. 

“I didn’t have time to see all the cars downstairs, what models do you own?” Bond asks genuinely interested. 

“There’s the Mercedes I use for things that require a large storage area, and the BMW 5 I use for daily task,” Then with an added excitement she adds, “And my favorite is the Mclaren 570S Spider Q got me for my, dare I say, 50th birthday.”

Q rolls his eyes at her dramatics, “You don't look a day over 40 I promise you.” 

“The other cars in the basement are just in storage by the larger Miratalge family,” Charlotte informs him. 

“Miratalge family as in the Duke of Vilaire?”

“That very one,” Q confirms for him easily, “My maternal grandfather is the 9th Duke of Vilaire.”

“Are you actually an Earl Alexander then?” 

“Thankfully no, that would go to my uncle William, the eldest child, then his oldest son, Wilbur. You can see my family aren’t the creative sort when it comes to names, as British as they come.”

“Did you grow up in Switzerland, Charlotte?”

“Born in Nice, went to school in Bath, and growing old in Champery, and you, James?”

“Born in Zurich, grew up all over the place, and now working in London.”

The Zurich in his answer makes Charlotte ask, “You speak French or German then?”

“Happy to say I speak both, though it reminds me of work far too much,” He answers playfully.  When all three of their plates are clean Charlotte once again sets off to the kitchen.

“That woman practically raised me.”

“With the way she cooks I’m surprised you’re not triple the size,” Bond laughs. 

“You get very little time outside of the school grounds at Le Rosey, I would come back here maybe twice a month?”

Charlotte comes back with a lovely tiramisu, just as Bond asks his next question, “How about grandma and grandpa Vilaire?”

Q turns to Charlotte gesturing for her to answer the question, “Even though they had enrolled Alexander in Le Rosey as a means to give him a community without being in said community, I’m happy to say that he is now their favorite grandchild.”

“As proven by the room reserved for them here when they visit, and my grandmother's non-stop invitations for tea,” Q notes fondly. 

The dinner conversation ends with a discussion on the best driving routes and Q’s yawn.

“I’ve prepared your usual room,  jeune maître, and the guest room for James, now go wash up and get to bed.” She instructs them both. 

“Thank you for the food, Cherry.”

“A beautiful meal, Charlotte.”

“It’s always a pleasure boys, now go get some rest, I do not condone waking up at noon I’ll have you know.” She shakes her head as Q gets up to take Bond to his room.

With his bag in hand Bond finds himself in a room that is a 180 from the decor of One Hyde Park. A queen-size bed in a birch frame with light blue sheets greet him. A dark Champéry out the window.

“Go to sleep, James, I have plans for tomorrow,” Giving him a sleepy smile and closes the door.

Q makes him believe in the ease of love. 


	2. Sunday/Dimache/Sonntag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahaha sorry this is late I got distracted by The Great on Hulu (It's incredible but warning it's also very historically inaccurate on purpose)

Bond wakes up to the sound of laughter, after making a quick detour to the bathroom he joins Q and Charlotte on the balcony overlooking the Swiss fields. 

With a plate of breakfast pastries between them, Q drinks his habitual tea as Charlotte mixes the cream for her coffee. 

“Good morning my sleeping beauty,” Charlotte greets him with a laugh, “What would you like to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Bond replies, taking a seat and giving Q a smile in greeting. “Only 24 hours ago we were in your apartment,” He notes fondly.

“And I asked you if you wanted to come to Switzerland,” Q adds.

“I’m glad I said yes.”

Charlotte comes back with Bond’s coffee in her left and a wallet in her right, “ Kaffe-crème for James and your Swiss wallet, jeune maître.”

“Only 120 Francs, Cherry? Seriously? I graduated years ago.” 

“That’s what? 100 pounds?” Bond asks in confusion between the two comedians before him.

“It’s my old allowance from school,” Q says staring at Charlotte in mock anger.

“Oh don't be so dramatic, I also included your cards,” She points at the numerous black cards.

The two share another laugh and Charlotte leaves to the kitchen. Q comes down from his laughter and leans back in his chair, “I have known her for so long but I can’t imagine ever getting bored of her.”

“How long have you known her?” Bond asks between his drinks of wonderful coffee.

“My last year at Eton was year 9, so I would have been about 14 when I met Charlotte.” 

“What was she like back then?”

“She was selected right out of graduate school by my grandparents to accompany me to Switzerland. I will quote my grandmother by how she described her, ‘Motherly, but without a want of children, kind, but not without discipline.’” Q explains while using the voice of a classic British lady for his grandmother's quote.

“What are your plans today, or shall I say our plans?”

“You woke up later than I thought you would,” Q jabs playfully.

“It's 10 am, Q, hardly what you would consider late.”

“We turned in quite early last night, regardless. Sweet dreams?”

Bond looks at him for a moment, his smile different from the ones on missions, “The sweetest.”

“Cherry has filled up the tank again so we can go anywhere you like,” Q motions to the fields below the balcony.

“You may give me the grand tour if you like.”

“And stop for a picnic as well,” Charlotte suggests as she comes back with a picnic basket, “Fun fact, James, it’s the perfect size to sit in the Bugatti.”

He drains his cup. “Day plans then?” Bond tilting his head to the side.

Q leans forward, “Lovely.”

As they both take in the peaceful morning, a rare gift in their line of work, they have taken a break from conversation and are simply enjoying each other's company. Charlotte has disappeared to some other part of the large chalet. Bond then finally asks the question on his mind, “Can I drive?”

And just like how he had to tell his cousins, Q looks at him with the sweetest smile and says, “No, besides you wouldn't know where to go anyway.” He says smartly. 

“Brat,” Bond does a slight pout.

“Buy your own Bugatti then,” Q retorts with a smile and a raised brow, he stands to go back inside “get dressed, we can leave for the picnic area in half an hour, and I’ll be taking the scenic route.”

Q leaves Bond alone on the balcony, he decides to stay a bit rather than head back to his room as Q suggests. He rolls his head back and takes a deep breath, he follows the sun rays on his face as he closes his eyes, Switzerland is not where he thought he’d be, and certainly not with the Q. Never in his wildest dreams. The day is beautiful, hell, the past 48 hours have been a dream in London and now it’s a daydream in Champéry. He's grounded with Q, so comfortably domestic even though this would date No.1.5? 

He goes back to his room to find it all tidy once again, the trousers he had left out to possibly wear again today gone, along with the dirty clothes in the basket. He shouldn’t be surprised, Charlotte loves her work. Weirdly enough time here is both slow and fast at the same time. Everything is so languid and yet he’s spent 15 minutes between Q leaving and seeing the time in his room.

He makes it out a few minutes early to the garage to find Q loading in the basket to the frunk, he’s dressed like his usual office attire, a black shirt with little eyes printed on and some very dark trousers, forgoing the usual suit jacket and tie he wears at Six. One of the ladies at Six mentioned this to him,  _ Q dresses like a rich college student,  _ the short time Bond has spent with him has proven this both true and false. Sure, all the cardigans he wore in his earlier years at Six and the now slightly more mature jackets have changed this, but when he wears a perfectly fitted shirt that's open at the collar Bond becomes completely shocked at the sight of it.

“Though I was gonna have to get you from your room,” Q comments without eye contact as he closes the hood of the car.

“My watch is still intact I assure you,” Holding his arm up to show.

“Let's keep it that way.”

Bond walks to the middle of the basement garage, “We’re in no rush right?”

“No, why?”

“You know very well I’m a car man, Q.”

“James, you have fewer cars then my nanny turned property manager,” Q Leans on the side of Arabella.

“Well, you can’t really build a collection when you're pronounced dead every few years.”

“You dramatic man, you can always just update your will to someone you trust won't sell your collection,” Q stands properly from the car and approaches Bond.

“Do you have someone in mind?”

“I know someone who appreciates both vehicular beauties and does not require extra funds,”

“I have been thinking about updating my will,” Bond says with a slight laugh, him and Q are standing close now.

Q tilts his head and breaks eye contact to looks at Bond's lips instead, “Yeah, Tanner is a big car fan.”

“God you're cheeky,” Bond kisses him, putting his hands on Q’s waist as Q’s hands encircle his neck. They continue for an unknown amount of time before rationality returns to their world. Just like the first kiss they shared, Q is the one who breaks it. 

“We would be here till sunrise if I don’t stop us, and I really don't want the woman who raised me seeing me doing some less than pure things to you,” Q explains, smiling at Bond, “Now let me show you the cars.” 

Q list down every conceivable detail about each car and who knew Bond has such a thing for nerds. He goes through each car, even mentioning some surface-level information on the cars placed by his family. The collection placed by the extended family is what a few days ago would have been the best he’s ever seen outside of missions, museum, or showrooms, but with his new knowledge on Q’s personal collection the cars here are lovely, but nothing extraordinary. That is of course excluding the McLaren owned by Charlotte, a sign of both her and Q’s taste.

“I’m surprised I see no Rolls Royces or Koenigseggs,” Bond says at the end of the tour.

“In the family estate and Christmas list respectively,” Q hints, not wasting time he makes his way back to Arabella, and much to Bond's disappointment slides into the driver’s side. “ I did promise you Swiss Alps speeding didn't I?”

With that Bond has forgotten all about his disappointment in not being able to drive, seeing Q’s concentration face is just a bit better. Drives in the Swiss countryside are generally traffic-free, it leaves Q with the space to drive how Arabella deserves to be driven. Even though Q has perfected the look of a relaxed expert he still uses slightly more concentration at the turns around the Alps. 

The passes have two lanes, the directions they're driving in makes them drive on the outer side. Q seems to have a habit of speeding up and barely breaking at turns, somehow Bond doesn't feel as scared regarding the thought of flying off the edge of the road. Bond knows how to seduce, he’s done his fair share of honeypots, but the way Q’s arm flexes ever so slightly is pure hypnotism. 

Q turns to him and catches Bond staring at his hands on the wheel, “I hope you’ve been paying attention to the route.”

“Why? Are you gonna let me drive?” He asks, looking at Q. 

“I might if you can use your double-o training to memorize the route back home,” Q challenges. 

“You could have told me that sooner,” Bond replies, realizing that he’s going to have to start concentrating on the road and not only on the person to his right. 

“All part of the fun.”

They get to the top of a hill, overlooking a small village. The view is all wooden chalets and green grass. Q goes to the front and starts to unpack the picnic that Charlotte made for them. He unfurls the picnic blanket and opens up the basket to two white wine glasses, a bottle of local Chardonnay, and a pair of croissant sandwiches.

“She treats me like I still have the palette of a 15-year-old,” Q says fondly as he hands Bond a Croissant and opens the wine. 

“You can never go wrong with a ham and cheese croissant can you?” Bond says as he takes a newly poured glass from Q. 

Bond sits with one leg straight and the other bent to rest his elbow on, while Q sits crossed legged. Both of them are facing the valley below. 

“Where will you take me next?” Bond says softly letting the thought slip out. 

Q lets out a small laugh, “I don’t know, where do you want to go?”

“France is beautiful this time of year.”

“France is my grandmother's land, and I don’t think we’re at that stage yet,” Q laughs. 

“Spain?”

“I don’t want cousin Phillip getting his hands on you just yet,” Q lays down on the blanket turning his head towards Bond. “An international trip outside Europe would take too much time right now, though we can plan on for the future,” Q adds. 

“Germany might be fun,” Bond suggests after some thought. 

“Are we talking about Germany or Berlin here? People go to Berlin for very different reasons than going to the rest of Germany.”

“Do you dance Q?” A reflection of the question in the car. 

“I learned how to ballroom dance at 16 if that’s what you’re talking about,” By the look Bond gives him it clearly isn’t. “Well, I guess you’ll find out when we get into Berghain then,” Giving him a sweet smile and pouring the wine from his glass straight to his mouth while laying down. Posh kids really are the worst. 

He only has a few bites left to his croissant and the bottle is currently half full. A moment later he joins Q to lay down on the blanket, they gaze into the sky and watch the cloud drift with the wind. He could say something like _ good wine  _ or  _ let’s get married _ but he doesn’t. He isn’t sure about many things in life but he knows this for sure, Q is not someone he will marry and divorce in the span of a week or month or year. With Q these moments become eternity, the silence a symphony. He’s so in love if he told Moneypenny she’d probably need to go to med bay from laughing too much. 

Time passes and soon enough they will need to return to work, Q will return to his blueprints, and Bond to his missions and firefights. 

“Considering the time I don’t think we’ll be able to drive back,” Q says noting the time.

“I don’t want to go back,” Bond replies, eyes closed with his arms crossed behind his head.

“Ready to retire already?” Q looks at him and gets his phone.

“Are you?”

Q chuckles, he’s not even 40 yet, “No, I don’t think I am.”

“I don’t think I am either,” Bond opens one eye to look at Q.

“I’ll book the plane tickets then,” Q tells him, giving a sweet smile.

Bond gets to drive them back and doesn’t take a single wrong turn. Charlotte is sad to see them go but Q promises to come back soon, with Bond in tow. 

“If we’re flying back, how are you going to get Arabella back home?” Bond asks as he puts his bag in the back of the G-Wagon.

“I’m sure Cherry is more than happy to drive her back,” Q answers while looking at the woman sliding into the Mercedes’ passenger seat.

“More than delighted, jeune maître,” She says with a smile.

It's a bit more than an hour to Geneva airport and Charlotte makes them both sit at the back, leaving the passenger seat empty. Bond is pleased to note that even for the one and a half hour trip Q has gotten them business class on British Airways. 

The plane lands at Heathrow just before 8 pm, with only carry on and special connections the whole process from disembarking to the MI6 company car is barely 20 minutes.

“I didn’t know MI6 gave you a driver,” Bond notes once they're in the black Jaguar.

“Policy against kidnapping I’m afraid, before becoming Q I used to either use the Tube or drive on my own, but now the Tube is seen as too much of a liability so David here drives me when I’m tired.”

“I could drive you,” Bond suggests.

“If you had a car,” Q corrects.

Bonds laughs at that, “All you need to do is sign a few papers, dear Quartermaster.”

Soon enough the driver pulls up to Bond's apartment and the trip is coming to an end. 

“I expect to see you at work tomorrow,” Q says feeling a surprising amount of sadness considering this isn’t going to be their last trip.

“We can get lunch together tomorrow,” Bond suggests.

“Sounds like a plan,” Q agrees as he leans in and gives Bond a kiss.  Not missing an opportunity Bond deepens it and Q goes along with it. 

This time Bond is the one who ends the kiss, “Good night, Q.”

“See you tomorrow,” is the only thing that comes to Q’s mind as Bond opens the door and heads up to his flat.

“David-”

“Not a word, sir.”

“Good lad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts and additional notes:  
> I completely forgot that Bond is half Swiss on his mother's side and I only learned when writing this that he was born in Zurich!!! I also wonder if you could have dual citizenship if you worked in MI6 and the answer is you can but you may need to give it up depending on what nationality it is, but let’s just imagine that being a 00 agent would require complete loyalty to the Queen.
> 
> The pass Q drives on for a visual is Gotthard Pass but logistically that's very far from where they are.
> 
> Personally when writing I was imagining someone like Michelle Pfeiffer as Charlotte.
> 
> Sadly the royal house Q is from is made-up, I spent some time trying to put him in an actual family but then I found it felt awkward to have to change someone's actual family but also some areas in the UK just have ugly names, to be honest. Just to clarify in my mind Q’s mother is the younger child of two, and Q is the eldest grandchild. Since he has both an uncle and a male cousin he’s not gonna get the title of Duke but he is the favorite grandchild because he’s sweet and responsible and smart. I don’t know what job I’m gonna give the late father yet, but obviously something that leaves a sizeable trust fund. (Also the names of Wilbur and Phillip come from sleepytwt!)
> 
> The quote on Q’s fashion comes from https://www.bondsuits.com/young-q-expensive-student-style/ and the shirt I described when he’s in the garage is from Kenzo called Slim-fit multi-eye shirt (very 1984/ Nine Eyes question mark)  
> https://www.kenzo.com/eu/en/slim-fit-multi-eye-shirt/F965CH2001FM.99.37.html?cgid=Shirts-H
> 
> When Charlotte mentions that she was educated in Bath it is a reference to a super-nanny school called Norland College, which is also where the current nanny for Prince George came from. Here’s an article about it https://amp.businessinsider.com/inside-norland-college-nanny-school-2017-3
> 
> The school that Q goes to is called the most expensive school in the world, the school fee even includes an allowance for the students. The eldest students receive 120 Francs which is what Q jokes he has in his wallet. Here’s another article https://amp.businessinsider.com/inside-the-most-expensive-school-in-the-world-2017-6 and also https://www.forbes.com/sites/ceciliapelloux/2018/06/15/inside-swiss-elite-boarding-school-le-rosey/#78d15e184b69
> 
> When writing this the croissant I was thinking of is actually from Singapore Tiong Bahru Bakery (https://www.tiongbahrubakery.com/) The ham and cheese croissant and their Blue latte are absolute favorites of mine.
> 
> Also, I’m so sorry but I have no idea what month this all happens in, like in my head I imagine spring since the end of Skyfall looks cold??
> 
> Please comment cause its quarantine and I'm bored. Give me suggestions and as hinted in the story I’m probably going to either write the next part as a day at work or a trip to Germany. 
> 
> Additionally, if you think the comment you want to write is boring or repetitive don't, because I'm a cheap bitch. You can even quote another person's comment and add a heart and I'd have serotonin for days.


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